


A Moment Sooner

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Yondu Lives [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, everyone lives au, w.i.p.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:26:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14890172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: They’re going to give him a Ravager funeral and Yondu would be delighted and (maybe) humbled.The only problem is, he’s not actually dead yet.





	A Moment Sooner

To be fair, when Stakar arrived for Yondu’s funeral, they weren’t sure if they were going to need one. Yondu was still hovering somewhere between life and death, completely oblivious to the world around him as Rocket struggled to get what Kraglin could find of the _Elector_ ’s outdated medical equipment working.

“Drax! Gamora! Someone who ain't important deal with that!” Rocket shouted as the first ship appeared, dropping out of a jump.

“I am Groot?”

“You stay where you are!” 

“I am Groot.” The Flora Colossus had laid claim to Yondu’s chest so that he could monitor his new friend as well as everything else in the room. He was more or less out of the way (and Yondu had seemed to like him) so they had left him. Mantis who had only recently woken was seated beside him, doing her best to keep Yondu asleep.

“I’m on it,” Gamora said, brushing past them to answer the comm. Just outside the medical wing (it was more of a room, really) was a small communication closet that was meant to be used in emergencies or when the bridge crew was otherwise occupied. Seeing as how they were all tripping over one another in the medical bay, it seemed to be the right time to use it.

“Are we too late?” Asked a tired voice from the other end of the line.

Gamora tilted her head, trying to decide what would define ‘late’ to the stranger. “Are you too late for what?”

“The funeral.”

She frowned, looking down at the comm array, which bore the other ship’s designation: _The Starhawk_. Gamora didn’t fail to notice the note next to it, _Do not Answer. Ignore all Calls_. More on edge than before, she asked, “To whom am I speaking?” Her nerves were not helped when she saw yet another ship drop out of the jump point, coming to rest somewhere near the _Starhawk_.

“Stakar Ogord.”

Gamora muted the comm, then strode back around the corner to the medical wing. “Quill, do you know anyone by the name of Stakar Ogord?”

Peter looked up, from where he was struggling to disentangle himself from oxygen wires and opened his mouth slightly to reply. Before he could answer, Kraglin butted in, “He’s an ass. What chu askin’ fer?”

“He thinks we’re having a funeral.” She shrugged, watching as Peter pulled the wrong part of the wire he was struggling with and pulled his own feet out from under himself. “I believe he wants an invitation.”

Kraglin frowned. “He come ta gloat?”

Gamora confessed she didn’t know and made her way back to the comm, quicker than before. “Captain Ogord?” By that time, there was a third ship beside the _Starhawk_ and a fourth behind it. She was growing steadily more uneasy by the moment.

“Here.”

“Kraglin wishes to inquire if you are here to gloat.”

Stakar laughed dryly. “Nah, girl, I’m here to let my old friend hear the Horns of Freedom.”

Muting the call for the second time, Gamora leaned around the corner, not bothering to completely enter Yondu’s sickroom. “He’s here for something called the Horns of Freedom.” Peter and Kraglin were both tangled in the oxygen wire this time, with a disgruntled Nebula attempting to extract them from it, grumbling under her breath about how Yondu was an asshole and wasn’t worth it. You didn’t have to be her sister to tell she was hiding her concern.

Kraglin still looked supicious. “Tell ‘im he can’t do dat till we’s sure cap’n’s dead.” For good measure, he added, “I still don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust anyone,” Peter pointed out.

“I can leave ya,” Kraglin threatened.

She nodded and ducked back into the closet, leaving Drax to explain to Kraglin that it wasn’t possible for him to leave Peter since they were both tangled in the same wire. She just hoped he could get them out. Picking up the comm she said, “We are not certain we will be having a funeral.”

“Ravager’s gotta have a funeral girl,” Stakar said, his voice suddently terse. “If you won’t honor him, then I’ll be taking his remains.” The words ‘by force if necessary’ hung unspoken in the air. Gamora decided that she liked him, even if he wasn’t on their side, he was a worthy opponent.

She glared at the comm. “We may not need a funeral if he does not die then why would he need your ‘Horns of Freedom’.”

Stakar was silent for a moment, then softly asked, “Yondu’s alive?”

“For the moment. He nearly succumed to deep-space exposure.”

She could hear voices in the background, as though Stakar was conferring with someone else, then he said, “Bring him aboard. We have a better medical facility.”

Gamora had to admit almost anyone had a better medical facility than they did at the moment. As long as they kept Quill out of their supplies that was. “Kraglin doesn’t trust you.”

Stakar laughed. “I wouldn’t expect any less.”

She considered returning to confer with the rest of the Guardians, but considering the condition Yondu had been in, thought better of it. “We accept your help.”

“I’ll send a ship over.” He paused, then added, “You’re all welcome aboard.”

“We await your signal.” Gamora fiddled with the controls, already planning how to explain that she had gone above their usual, democratic way of making decisions. She hoped they would understand. “Thank you,” she added before cutting the call.

She didn’t wait to hear his answer, hurrying back to the medical wing. “Stakar is sending help,” she said, letting her voice inform them that they didn’t get a choice in this. “He has better medical facilities.” 

“I thought the Ravagers didn’t like each other,” Peter said, looking hesitant.

“Nah, that’s just Blue,” Rocket said, his head peeking out from the scanner he was attempting to get working. “He pissed ‘em all off.”

Peter seemed somewhat jealous that Rocket knew more than he did, but a beep signaling there was an approaching ship cut him off. “He’s quick,” Gamora remarked.

“Dat ain’t him,” Kraglin said, his face turning ashen as he looked out the small window. Another ship, similar to the Starhawk but with a green paint job, was getting far too close for comfort. Where the others had hung back at a respectful distance, it was close enough that they could almost see the people on the other side of the windows. It certainly wasn’t a medical transport. “Dat’s Aleta.”

“Who is this Aleta?” Drax stood, flexing his muscles, clearly having picked up on Kraglin’s trepidation. “I will destroy them if they attempt to take Peter’s asshole.” Drax still hadn’t quite figured out Peter’s relationship to Yondu. Now that he was fairly certain he wasn’t Peter’s father he had taken to calling him the only other thing Peter had named him, ‘the asshole that kidnapped me.’

“It’s Stakar’s wife,” Kraglin explained. “She’s a whole ‘nother level of batshit.” He frowned, then muttered, “Don’t tell ‘er I sed dat.”

Gamora rushed back to the comm. “Cease your approach,” she ordered, leaving it on an open channel so that any (and all) of the approaching ships could hear. She hadn’t noticed how many there were, if Stakar was lying (or changed his mind) about helping them, they could annihilate what remained of the _Elector_ in a second, shields or no.

Aleta’s ship didn’t stop. Gamora tried another tactic. “We will treat any unauthorized approach as hostile and fire at will. Do not underestimate us.”

Someone from Aleta’s ship answered on the open line. “According to my scanner you’ve got Nine lifeforms on board.” The speaker was female, but Gamora couldn’t be sure if it was Aleta herself or an underling. Gamora inwardly cursed herself for not having cloaked the ship before the whole debacle started.

“I’ll handle it.” Stakar’s tired voice came through on the private line she had opened for him earlier. “Does the medical transport have permission to dock?”

“Only the medical transport.”

“Understood.”

She could see the medical transport approaching as he cut the line, flying easily around Aleta’s now halted ship to approach the _Elector_. “Quill!” Gamora shouted over her shoulder. “Get to the cockpit and let them on board!”

It was Kraglin who answered, sticking his head in the communication closet as he passed to say, “I’m on it. Pete’s gonna meet ‘em at da dock.” 

* * *

Peter had always thought he knew what the worst day of his life was. When your mother died and you were kidnapped by aliens that wanted to eat you all in one day, there wasn’t much that came close.

Watching as Yondu nearly asphixiated in space in front of him, he realized that the worst day of his life was about to have serious competition.

He drummed his foot impaiently, not for the first time wishing that he had his Walkman to take the edge off his nerves. Sure Rocket had said Yondu had clones of his music, but it wasn’t the same. The medical transport sure seemed to be taking its sweet time docking, and he wondered if Gamora was correct in trusting them. Surely they weren’t intending to come aboard, guns blazing and kill them all? Kraglin sure seemed to think so, judging by how quickly he had made himself scarce.

It was hard to get used to the idea that they were talking to the other Ravagers. The others - their Admiral in particular - had been distant figures, looming over Peter’s childhood. The one time he’d been foolish enough to ask Yondu about them, the other had left him with a concussion that he’d never properly appologized for (pretending it didn’t happen and leaving sweets in Peter’s room wasn’t enough to make up for grevious bodily harm, even if it was Yondu’s style). There was no proof the candy had come from Yondu, but Peter was used to things showing up in his room with no identification when Yondu felt he had wronged the other. At the time, it had infuriated him (the first time, he’d asked if they came from Yondu and the treats had been confiscated under the logic that ‘they ain’t mine but that don’t make them yers”). Looking back, it was just one of those weird ways Yondu showed he cared.

Finally, the airlock door opened, pulling Peter from his memories, and a man stepped forward. He was made of gemstones. Peter would have gaped if he hadn’t seen (and killed) a man who was actually a planet just hours before.

The man thumped his chest. “Martinex T’Naga,” he greeted. “First Mate of the _Starhawk_.” If Stakar was sending his first mate, it was either a really good thing or they were fucked.

Peter mimicked him, inclining his head slightly but never taking his eyes off the other. “Peter Quill.”

“Where is Undonta?” Several people dressed in medical garb stepped through the door behind Martinex as he spoke.

“This way.” The remaining part of the Elector wasn’t big enough to make it take too long to reach anywhere, and they had directed the medical transport to the airlock nearest the sickroom.

Martinex was eerily quiet as they walked, the man seemed to be taking in the ship with genuine curiosity. Peter wished he’d just talk like a normal person. But then again, he couldn’t think of anything to say either.

The medics didn’t need any direction once they reached Yondu, easily fanning out to take control of the situation. Peter closed his eyes and told himself to trust them.

“Peter Quill?”

He opened his eyes, glancing sideways at the speaker. “Martinex T’Naga,” he mimicked. Rocket snorted.

“You are the one he was saving, correct?”

“Yeah. He’s my-” Peter wasn’t sure what to say. Kidnapper? Person? Mentor? Parent? Arch Rival? Friend? _Dad_?

“Asshole,” Drax supplied. Close enough. Across the room, Gamora snorted.

Martinex just nodded, as though it made total sense (then again, if he’d ever met Yondu, it probably did). “Very well. Will you be returning with us?”

They hadn’t planned that far ahead. Peter wanted to return with them, but they couldn’t just leave the _Elector_ floating by itself and hope it didn’t bump into anything.

“They will.” Peter hadn’t noticed Kraglin’s return to the medical bay. “I cen keep an eye on da ship.”

Peter wondered what Kraglin’s history with Stakar and his men were. Something told him it had something to do with his offer to stay behind. Martinex also seemed to understand (or he didn’t care, his face was, well, stone) and simply nodded. “Let us know if you would like a relief crew and we can send one over.”

“I be fine,” Kraglin snapped, stomping from the room, grumbling, “Didn’t need yer help den, don’t need it now.”

“He’s an adult.” Gamora rested her hand on Peter’s arm, giving him a worried look.

“Yeah. I just don’t trust him to take care of himself.” Peter sighed.

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

“Are you two finished?” Nebula interrupted. “I’m staying here.”

Gamora frowned. “Will you-”

“I’ll still be here when you get back.”

“Okay.” Gamora smiled, then stepped forward and gave her sister an awkward hug before grabbing Peter and pulling him from the room. She almost bounced as she walked.

 _Okay_ , Peter thought, _maybe it’s not the worst day ever. If Yondu pulls through, it’ll only be the third worst. Fourth. Maybe._


End file.
